THE TEXAS TATTLER

All the news that’s barely fit to print!

Fortune Heir Charged With Murder!

Red Rock is all abuzz with the news that Sheriff Wyatt Grayhawk has charged Jonas Goodfellow with the murder of their uncle, Ryan Fortune. It appears that this importer deliberately gave a poisoned bottle of port wine to the Fortune family’s patriarch at the recent bash to welcome the lost heirs.

But the burning question on everyone’s mind is—who’s that pretty young blonde who posted his bail money and has been by his side ever since?

That “pretty young blonde” is Jonas’s loyal assistant, Tara Summers. Ms. Summers flew from their global headquarters in San Francisco to open a satellite office in town, since Jonas can’t leave Red Rock until the charges are dropped. Our sources tell us the pair is sharing a suite at a local hotel, but from the looks they’ve been secretly exchanging, Jonas may have just leapt from the frying pan…into the fire!

Dear Reader,

Welcome to Silhouette Desire, where every month you’ll find six passionate, powerful and provocative romances.

October’s MAN OF THE MONTH is The Taming of Jackson Cade, part of bestselling author BJ James’ MEN OF BELLE TERRE miniseries, in which a tough horse breeder is gentled by a lovely veterinarian. The Texan’s Tiny Secret by Peggy Moreland tells the moving story of a woman in love with the governor of Texas and afraid her scandalous past will hurt him.

The exciting series 20 AMBER COURT continues with Katherine Garbera’s Some Kind of Incredible, in which a secretary teaches her lone-wolf boss to take a chance on love. In Her Boss’s Baby, Cathleen Galitz’s contribution to FORTUNES OF TEXAS: THE LOST HEIRS, a businessman falsely accused of a crime finds help from his faithful assistant and solace in her virginal embrace.

Jacob’s Proposal, the first book in Eileen Wilks’ dynamic new series, TALL, DARK & ELIGIBLE, features a marriage of convenience between a beauty and a devastatingly handsome financier known as the Iceman. And Maureen Child’s popular BACHELOR BATTALION marches on with Last Virgin in California, an opposites-attract romance between a tough, by-the-book marine drill instructor and a free-spirited heroine.

So celebrate the arrival of autumn by indulging yourself with all six of these not-to-be-missed love stories.

Enjoy!

Joan Marlow Golan

Senior Editor, Silhouette Desire

Her Boss’s Baby

Cathleen Galitz

MILLS & BOON

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CATHLEEN GALITZ,

a Wyoming native, teaches English to seventh to twelfth graders in a rural school that houses kindergartners and seniors in the same building. She lives in a small Wyoming town with her husband and two children. When she’s not busy writing, teaching or working with her Cub Scout den, she can most often be found hiking or snowmobiling in the Wind River Mountains.

Meet the Fortunes of Texas

Meet the Fortunes of Texas’s Lost Heirs—membership in this Texas family has its privileges and its price. As the family gathers to welcome its newest members, it discovers a murderer in its midst…and passionate new romances that only a true-bred Texas love can bring!

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Jonas Goodfellow: Falsely arrested for Ryan Fortune’s murder, this lost heir wants nothing more to do with that nest of vipers he’d foolishly hoped would accept him as kith and kin.

Tara Summers: From the day he gave this inexperienced high school graduate her first job, she’s been in love with her boss. But now that she’s pregnant with the boss’s baby, is Jonas about to promote her to…wife?

Ryan Fortune: Having faced his own mortality, the family patriarch now has some special gifts in mind for four people who saw him through his darkest hour….

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

One

Tara Summers smoothed out the nonexistent wrinkles in the fashionable pink power suit she had chosen expressly for the occasion. Aware that she was the focus of attention in the front office of the small jail-house, she couldn’t help fretting if her skirt wasn’t a tad too short. She had picked out this particular outfit hoping it would make her feel both professional and sexy. From the head-to-toe ogling she was receiving from the officers on duty, it appeared she had achieved at least one of the two desired effects.

If only Jonas thinks so, she agonized, worrying her lower lip between her teeth.

The irony of the situation did not escape her. Five years ago the tables had been turned, and it had been Jonas Goodfellow who had arrived like a chivalrous knight of old to bail her and his kid stepsister out of jail. Only seventeen at the time, Tara had been mortified when she and Ellen had been incarcerated for a drinking violation following their high-school graduation. Still green around the gills, she had burst into tears at the first inclination that Jonas was about to administer a well-deserved tongue-lashing.

Between sobs she’d explained the reason for her unprecedented behavior. She desperately needed a job to support her ailing widowed father. At her age without a college degree or experience in anything other than part-time waitressing, life appeared hopeless.

Moved by her plight, Jonas wiped away her tears with his handkerchief and offered her a job on the spot. He was just starting up his own business and said he could use someone to mind the store and answer the phone when he was out of the country. Starting pay was more than Tara could have expected anywhere else. Not only would it help salvage her father’s dignity, the money would allow her to take a couple of college classes at night, as well.

“You’ll never regret it,” she promised him, gratefully pumping his hand like a well-oiled piston.

A pair of twinkling green eyes and a wicked smile pulled Tara back into the present. “Are you sure that a sweet young thing like yourself really wants to bail out an attempted murderer—considering the fact that you could be spending your time with an upright good-looking fellow such as myself?”

The police officer behind the desk threw out his chest to add to the appeal of his offer. He seemed nice, close to her own age and charming in a boyishly cute way. Just the sort of all-American guy her father was always after her to date. He often reminded her how much he wanted a couple more grandkids to bounce on his knee.

Tara took a deep breath before replying, “I’m positive. Now will you please take me to see Jonas?”

Regardless of how bad things looked, she wasn’t about to abandon Jonas now. This was her big chance to pay him back for his kindness and generosity. And to prove that she was no longer the girl he’d rescued so long ago.

Goosebumps raised along the length of her arms as Tara followed the officer through the office into the jail itself. She wasn’t sure whether to attribute them to the sudden drop in temperature or the chilling atmosphere of the dismal holding area. Tara squinted in the harsh light, looking past rows of steel bars.

Who is that unshaven man sitting on the edge of his cot, holding his head in his hands? Surely not clean-cut, always in control, take-charge-of-the-world Jonas Goodfellow.

Reminding herself that he couldn’t be expected to be at his charming best, Tara tried touching him gently with her smile.

Awakened from his melancholic stupor by the subtle scent of her perfume, Jonas raised his head. Blue eyes collided with brown, and a frisson of electrical energy melted the bars that separated them, creating the illusion that they were the only two people on earth.

Who is that angel in pink? Jonas wondered. Surely not that scared high-school graduate I hired to answer phones for me just a couple of short years ago.

Indeed not. This was a woman, mature in both mind and body. A woman who knew full well the effect she was having on every male in the joint. How amazing, it must seem to them, that a model could walk off of the pages of a glossy fashion magazine and into their collective fantasies.

Jonas groaned. It was hard enough defending a lady’s honor when one wasn’t behind bars. A low whistle emanating from the cell directly across the way confirmed his worst fears. Accompanying suggestions turned the lady in question the same lovely shade of pink as her suit. The stern reprimand that the young police cadet in charge issued was met by guffaws.

Never in all his life had Jonas wanted to bash in someone’s head as badly as he did at this very moment. Humiliation and indignation were powerful stimulants when mixed in a vial already overflowing with injustice. Seeing Tara’s smile wobble, he growled at his fellow prisoner, “It’s a good thing you’re penned up way over there. Otherwise I’d wager you’d have trouble trying to whistle without any teeth.”

In response, the other man flung a filthy string of expletives in his direction. He also took a step away from the bars to make sure he was out of reach when the officer unlocked Jonas’s cell.

Jonas regretted Tara’s seeing him like this. Had he anyone else in the world to call upon, he would have spared his lovely young secretary the trip from San Francisco to the boondocks of Texas. Unfortunately Jonas had no family left except his stepfather and stepsister, Ellen, who was expecting a baby anytime now. Considering her delicate condition, he didn’t want to put any extra strain on her. And Jonas would have preferred death in the electric chair than to ask his stepfather for a favor. Not that asking would have made any difference. Nicolas Goodfellow would refuse to help. Just as surely as he had refused to have anything to do with raising Jonas or caring for his needy young wife, who had meekly submitted to his emotional abuse right up until the day she died.

“Thanks for coming,” Jonas said to Tara as the door to his cell swung open. “You’re certainly a sight for sore eyes.”

Though he resisted the urge to give her an appreciative hug in front of their watchful audience, she was not given to such reserve. Wrapping her arms around him, she brushed a kiss across his stubbled cheek, causing yet another crude comment to bubble up from the gutter of another captive’s mind.

For all the times Jonas had imagined holding this woman in his arms, he couldn’t believe how good she felt. Way too good. For the hundredth time, he had to remind himself that theirs was an employee/employer relationship. Friendly and respectful. Anything more would be taking advantage of Tara’s sweet nature and naiveté.

“Let’s get you out of here,” she whispered in his ear.

The sensation of her breath on his neck caused Jonas’s skin to tingle. What was that scent she was wearing? A heady mixture of flowers and musk, it was an importer’s dream. Jonas was certain he could sell gallons of the stuff.

After almost three days of confinement, he was eager to leave the premises. Happy to let Tara lead the way, he couldn’t help but notice the way the young officer’s gaze lingered on the hypnotic swaying of her hips. Jonas’s chest tightened uncomfortably. He tried brushing the feeling off as the onset of bronchial pneumonia that he’d likely contracted from one of the thugs with whom he’d been forced to share quarters for the past fifty-six hours and twenty-two minutes.

Not that he was counting.

Jonas said a little prayer of thanksgiving as he entered the light of freedom. Relative freedom, he amended, cursing the fact that for the time being the bail money Tara had procured from the business liberated him only from his cell. Unless the charges against him were dropped, Jonas would be required to remain in the tightly knit community of Red Rock until the time of his trial. As far as he could tell, the small town existed for the sole purpose of servicing the Fortune family—that nest of vipers that he had so foolishly hoped would welcome him as kith and kin.

He was charged with the attempted murder of one of the town’s most prominent citizens. The fact that, as far as Jonas could tell, everyone in Red Rock, from the local pharmacist to the sheriff, was related only made matters that much worse. He figured he’d been lucky not to have been lynched while he awaited bail. He’d be even luckier to get out of town in one piece. One thing was for certain. Good old Sheriff Grayhawk wasn’t about to risk upsetting his pretty little wife by letting anyone off the hook who was even circumstantially implicated in harming her favorite uncle.

To the lawman’s credit, however, Grayhawk hadn’t gone out of his way to persecute him. Fortunately it appeared the sheriff was more into justice than punishment. Still, given the hostile stares leveled at him by both employees and visitors as he left the county building, Jonas was certain he would be under careful surveillance as long as he remained in Grayhawk’s jurisdiction.

Stepping outside into the bright light of a Texas summer day, he realized just how much he had taken such a simple pleasure for granted: the warmth of the sun and of Tara’s smile. The way the light caught in her blond hair, which tumbled about her shoulders in an aura of golden diffusion, almost made him question for a moment whether she was wearing a halo. A telltale shiver told Jonas just how relieved this angel was to be well out of such an awful place.

“I can’t begin to tell you how much I appreciate you coming to bail me out,” he began stiffly.

Knowing how Jonas hated being indebted to anyone, Tara would have none of it. “You’d do the same for me,” she assured him with a blinding smile. “In fact, I believe you already have.”

“It’s hardly the same,” he retorted bitterly.

“Of course it is,” she insisted. “It’s my turn to take care of you now.”

Though Jonas looked genuinely insulted by the thought, Tara felt certain his masculine pride would ultimately take a back seat to his gratitude. At least she hoped so as she directed him toward the car she had rented for the length of their stay in Red Rock.

Feminine instinct compelled her to toss him the keys. Having worked so closely with this man for the past five years, she had absolutely no fear that he would do anything as foolish as attempt to bolt from town. She smiled at him as he opened her car door. Even under the most dire of circumstances, she could always count on Jonas to be a gentleman. It was one of the things she found most endearing about him.

Tara filled him in on the arrangements she had made as they drove to the hotel where they would be staying until this whole mess was cleared up. As always, Jonas was impressed with his assistant’s efficiency. He may have initially taken her under his wing out of pity, but the truth of the matter was that hiring Tara Summers was the smartest business move he’d ever made. Again he forced himself to remember just how foolish it would be to jeopardize such a remarkable working relationship by doing anything as stupid as pulling over to the side of the road and kissing her senseless. After all, someone as moral and inexperienced as Tara might mistake such purely masculine impulsiveness as being something far more than it actually was: lust and appreciation wrapped up in one hormonally charged package.

“It’s far from perfect, but it’s the best I could do on such short notice,” she said, needlessly apologizing for the arrangements she’d made to procure for him the only official suite in the small town. “I’ve had all the necessary equipment to run the business long distance shipped here. Everything should be here by tomorrow.”

A blush crept up her neckline as she explained in a rush how two separate bedrooms adjoined a relatively spacious central living area that would have to serve as their temporary office “until this little matter gets cleared up.”

“Always the master of understatement,” Jonas quipped, pulling up in front of the hotel.

As grateful as he was that Tara had taken all necessary precautions to keep his mind off the gravity of his situation, it bothered Jonas that she seemed so unsettled by the thought of sharing close quarters with him. Didn’t she trust him enough to keep his hands to himself?

Switching off the ignition, he leaned across the seat. Tipping up her chin to force her to make eye contact with him, he asked her point-blank, “What are you afraid of, little one? Haven’t I always been a perfect gentleman around you?”

That’s the problem! she longed to tell him, melting at the endearment designed to remind her of the difference in their ages. What I’m really afraid of is that you have absolutely no interest in me as a woman. A woman who wants to be more to you than just a loyal employee.

But there was no way she could tell him that, not when she was in the process of falling headlong into a pair of eyes so blue that she was certain it would be impossible to hide any falsehood there. Surely if he was guilty of any wrongdoing, she would be able to discern it just by looking into those eyes. At the mere touch of his thumb beneath her chin, Tara felt the familiar jolt of electricity that tugged at her insides and made mush of rational thought every time he came in physical contact with her.

Don’t you feel it, too? she wanted to ask.

Remembering some of the late nights they had spent working overtime when she had caught him looking at her as more than a mere employee, Tara was certain he must. Ever the gentleman, however, he had never acted on the predatory desire she had seen in those electric blue eyes. And he never would, she feared, unless she gave him some blatant encouragement. A pretty new dress and expensive perfume were too subtle by themselves.

Brazenly she traced the outline of his jaw with her index finger. If anything, she thought that two-day stubble and haunted look in his eyes only made him more outrageously masculine than ever. Indeed, such a rebel could capture any woman’s heart with a single glance.

“Has it ever occurred to you that maybe you’re the one who has something to fear?” Tara asked in a squeaky voice she barely recognized as her own.

The deep bass tones of Jonas’s laughter filled the car. Clearly uncomfortable with the direction this conversation was taking, he seized Tara’s hand to try to stop her from making an even bigger fool of herself. Putting her hand demurely back into her own lap, he threw in one of his patented winks in hopes of keeping the mood light.

“Just in case you’re tempted to play with fire, I promise to keep my door locked. I’m already in enough trouble without being accused of robbing the cradle, too.”

Two

Seething at the flippancy of Jonas’s comment, Tara held her head high as they checked into the hotel. The twelve years separating them were hardly enough to put her thirty-four-year-old boss over the hill. It wasn’t as if he was old enough to be her father or that anyone could mistake her for a teenager. Tara’s feminine pride was assuaged somewhat by the elderly desk clerk’s arched eyebrow at two unmarried people signing in for a single suite. Obviously he didn’t think she was too young for Jonas.

“I’ll remind you that we’re a respectable establishment,” the older man said sanctimoniously as he passed them a set of keys.

Jonas glared at him but declined to explain the situation. The old duffer would probably have a conniption fit when he realized an accused murderer was staying under his inviolable roof, he thought as he opened the door to the suite.

The hotel was the best Red Rock had to offer. Decorated in muted mauve and turquoise Southwestern designs, the suite had an air of fading elegance. The living room was spacious enough to make-do as a temporary office, though Jonas suspected it would get crowded once all the equipment and paperwork arrived. Over Tara’s objections, he insisted she take the roomier master bedroom, which had a view of a picturesque city park. As long as his room had a bed and a telephone, Jonas was set. After spending the past couple of nights sleeping on a cot under a scratchy blanket, he assured her this was near heaven.

“I hope you don’t mind that I took the liberty of bringing along some of your personal items,” Tara said, producing the shaving kit he kept at the office as a spare.

Jonas could have kissed her. The idea flitted through his mind like a golden butterfly canvasing a field of flowers. Instantly he squashed the impulse.

Running his hand over the stubble on his chin, he told Tara how much he appreciated her thoughtfulness. “You know how I hate feeling scruffy.”

All Tara knew was that she wouldn’t mind getting a whisker rub from this blue-eyed demon. As she set about unpacking her own things, she took decided comfort in the buzz of the electric razor starting up in the bathroom. It was the kind of everyday soothing sound to which she could definitely grow accustomed. Absently she wondered if married couples truly appreciated such simple joys of cohabitation.

When Tara heard the shower being turned on, she marveled at how the thought of such an ordinary hygienic act could bring sweat to her brow. All she could think of was the close proximity of Jonas, naked. The water caressing his six-foot-three body, his glistening muscles, and…

Ten minutes later he emerged from the bathroom wearing nothing but a thick towel wrapped around his middle. With his dark hair shimmering with water, he looked every bit a Roman gladiator. It was all Tara could do to refrain from asking if he would like help wiping that spot on his broad shoulders that he had missed.

“You look like a nude man,” she said with a smile, then realizing the embarrassing Freudian slip, tripped all over her tongue trying to correct herself. “A new man! I meant to say you look like a new man.”

The sound of Jonas’s laughter washed over her. He did have a wonderful way of putting her at ease in the most difficult of moments.

“Listen,” he said with a lopsided smile, “I know how awkward this has to be for you. I’ll promise to try to stay out of your way if you’ll do the same for me. I apologize for my state of undress, too, but I’m actually thinking of burning the clothes I was wearing. I don’t want anything around to remind me of the time I spent in that jail cell. Being the superefficient assistant that you are, I was hoping you might have brought me a couple of clean things to wear…”

Once again on firmer ground, Tara hastened to make him forget her earlier blunder. “I already put clean clothes on your bed. I didn’t bring much along because I figured it would be just as easy to buy a few things while we’re here. You know I’ve been wanting to update your wardrobe for quite some time now.”

Jonas inserted an injured tone to his voice. “Just be forewarned I’m not about to get a nose ring to go along with any trendy clothes you pick out to bring me into the new millennium.”

It was the kind of warm funny banter that Tara liked to think might someday be a part of their marriage. As much as Jonas would like to dismiss her as nothing more than an employee, she couldn’t keep waiting for him to notice she’d grown up. She was, after all, far too bright and ambitious to remain at a dead-end job forever. Certain that this was the perfect opportunity for her to prove what a wonderful wife she would make him, Tara had every intention of maximizing their time together.

“Remind me to give you a raise,” Jonas said, padding off in the direction of his bedroom. “You take awfully good care of me.”

“I’d sure like to,” she replied softly to a backside that made her suck in her breath with longing.

Seeing the damp imprints of his feet across the plush carpet, she wondered if marriages really did break up over such inconsequential things as a husband failing to dry his feet or replace the roll of toilet paper or squeeze the toothpaste from the bottom. Tara had read articles about such things, but found the idea preposterous. She sighed deeply. Only time would tell whether close proximity would indeed bring her closer to the man she wanted—or if it would drive them apart.

Tara knew that some women would be offended by Jonas’s expectations of her as an employee. She understood that it was her duty as a modern woman to rage against any request to make coffee or pick up dry cleaning or, say, pack up the office and move it to Dust Blown, Texas. But she just couldn’t muster up much indignation. Love had a way of making the most mundane chores a joy.

Aside from the fact that she enjoyed being near Jonas, Tara knew she was well compensated, financially, for what she did. And with a little luck she had every intention of moving up in his affections.

She also knew that self-reliant Jonas was likely to do everything in his power to keep her at arm’s length. It clearly amused him how she blushed or trembled whenever he came too close. A less-determined woman might have given up on having anything more than a platonic relationship with him. Not Tara Summers. Having supported both herself and her father ever since she was seventeen, she knew what the word persistence really meant. This was her chance to pay Jonas back for having faith in her when nobody else had and to finally make her feelings known. If she couldn’t muster up the courage here, she knew it wouldn’t happen back in San Francisco, where they would no doubt fall back into the same old productive platonic patterns of behavior.

A virgin, Tara felt a certain amount of trepidation—and a good deal of anticipation—at the prospect of spending a prolonged period of time in confined quarters with such a sexy virile man. But at the ripe old age of twenty-two, she was past caring about what damage could be done to her reputation.

In fact, she was pretty sure her virginity was her reputation.

Not that she hadn’t had any chances, romantically speaking. Plenty of men had made plays for her, but an old-fashioned girl at heart, Tara was hoping to share the gift of herself with a man who truly loved her. A man who she loved with the kind of passion immortalized in the tender verses she so esteemed. Certainly Jonas’s was as tragic a story as any the great bard had imagined. Although she knew he didn’t blame her for the predicament in which he found himself, Tara couldn’t help feeling guilty for the part she had played in getting him to come to Texas.

When he returned to the living room a moment later, Jonas was wearing a new pair of khaki pants and a soft white polo shirt. She was in the midst of deciding whether she liked him more as a rough-shaven rebel or a clean-shaven jock when it occurred to her that he really fit into neither category. One minute he was looking right into her soul with those piercing eyes and the very next moment his eyes would soften to reveal the hint of a little boy all alone against the world.

“Are you ready to fill me in on what’s happened?” she asked, taking a soda from the wet bar and offering him one, as well.

“After all I’ve been through, I think I deserve something stronger,” Jonas told her, settling down into a sofa and stretching his long legs across the expanse of velvet striping.

Tara substituted a beer for the pop and handed it to him. Then she draped her jacket on the back of her chair.

Noticing the wonders her feminine curves did for the simple scoop-neck shell and matching skirt she wore, Jonas took a long swig of his drink before beginning. “Well, of course, you know all about how I ended up here in the first place.”

“The invitation,” she supplied, feeling a twinge of culpability for her part in encouraging him to come to the Double Crown Ranch. Loyally tied to her own family, she had been thrilled when Jonas told her about the invitation he’d received several months ago from his long-lost uncle, Ryan Fortune, asking him to attend a reunion party for his sister and brother’s “lost heirs.” Apparently, good-looking smooth-talking Cameron Fortune had numerous affairs during his marriage and managed to father three illegitimate children before he was killed in a car crash—with his young assistant.

Jonas’s initial reaction was to scorn the invitation outright. After all, the only thing his birth father had ever given him was a start in the womb of a woman who deserved a whole lot better than she ever got. The thought of that dear woman having to endure Nicolas Goodfellow’s emotional abuse just to secure her illegitimate child a name and a trim suburban home was more than Jonas’s heart could bear considering even now. Other than the fact that it would have given him a good deal of satisfaction to look Cameron up one day and spit in his face, he wasn’t particularly sorry that his biological father was dead.

Still, Ryan Fortune had sounded so genuinely nice over the phone, trying to right his older brother’s wrongs, that Jonas had been sorely tempted to connect with the family he’d never known he had. Since his mother had passed away four years ago, Jonas knew any action he took couldn’t harm her in any way.

And he had been curious, after all.

For years he’d wondered about the man who had abandoned his mother. The one time he had probed for answers, she had bitterly referred to his conception as the product of her only one-night stand. Embarrassed, her ultra-strict religious parents had refused to have anything more to do with her. Shame still burned in her pale gaunt cheeks as she recalled those dismal days, trying to make it all on her own on minimum-wage shift work. That it turned out that Jonas’s real daddy was a multimillionaire didn’t make him any more palatable to the child he’d deserted.

The fact that a stray dog would have gotten better treatment than Jonas had at the hands of his stepfather made his accomplishments all that much more impressive. That he had been able to make something of himself despite all odds was perhaps the biggest reason for him to succumb to the urge to seek out his roots. Many people would clamor to meet their rich relatives in hopes of ingratiating themselves and asking for money; Jonas preferred to let the Fortunes know he didn’t want a damned thing from them.

Other than the respect he’d been denied from birth.

“I brought along a bottle of wine to the reunion like you suggested,” Jonas continued, methodically explaining the events that led him to jail. “As a gesture of goodwill.”

Tara nodded. She knew he wasn’t attaching any guilt to her well-intended idea.

“From that special French shipment. Yes, I remember,” she said.

“It was well received.” Jonas paused thoughtfully before adding almost as an afterthought. “As was I.”

Knowing how much it would please her, he considered telling her how good it had felt being instantly accepted into the Fortune family. They all seemed to be such lovely people—on the surface. After years of enduring his stepfather’s emphatic declarations that he was most definitely not of his loins, Jonas thought he had finally found home.

That home was a Spanish-style mansion situated in the midst of the untold number of acres constituting the fabulous Double Crown Ranch. But this was not nearly as important to Jonas as the fact that such benevolent successful people seemed so anxious to claim him as their own.

“Was there a problem with the wine?” Tara prodded, obviously unaware of the lump lodged like a fist in Jonas’s throat at the memory.

“You could say that,” he replied, the corners of his mouth turning up wryly at the corners at the understatement. There was no tactful way to break the news to her. “Shortly afterward, my uncle was admitted to the hospital, and that particular bottle of wine tested positive for poison. Hence, in a nutshell, my unfortunate incarceration.”

Tara gasped in disbelief. It had never occurred to her that when she encouraged Jonas to establish ties with the Fortunes, there would be even the slightest chance he would be implicated in any kind of criminal activity. Certainly nothing as heinous as what he had just relayed.

The tortured look in those cerulean eyes almost doubled Tara over in empathy. She rushed to his defense in a sputter of denouncement. “But there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that wine! Despite the extravagant price, it’s one of our most popular sellers. In fact, I put in another order to France just two days ago. If there was anything wrong, I’m sure it would have been recalled by the company.”

Surprised by her naiveté in assuming the wine had been tampered with at the factory, Jonas assured her, “Just to be safe, let’s pull all remaining cases from the showroom floor. I’ve insisted that the police test the bottle itself. Seeing how I was eager to make a good first impression, I splurged and bought a big bottle, more than could fit into the antique cut-glass decanter that Ryan poured it into.”

“Even if it tests positive,” Tara declared implacably, “I don’t see how they can possibly tie the crime to you. It isn’t like you were the only guest at the reunion.”

Her outrage was gratifying. In a dark secret part of his heart, Jonas had been bracing himself for the possibility that she might jump to the same conclusion the police had: that he was guilty of attempted murder. Not only was he personally tied to the murder weapon, Sheriff Grayhawk had been quick to point out how easy it would have been for Jonas, as an international importer, to illegally obtain the digitalis without a prescription from an overseas supplier. All things considered, even his high-priced lawyer admitted that the outlook for Jonas wasn’t bright.

It would have killed him to have spied either fear or reproach in his assistant’s big brown eyes. Though he knew he was far from a knight in shining armor, that Tara held him in such openly high regard made Jonas want to be a better man. Maybe he wasn’t worthy of being up on that pedestal where Tara had put him, but he wasn’t ready to relinquish the position just yet.

He was quick to agree with her assessment of the situation. “Of course you’re right. What with Storm Pearce, one of the other two lost heirs, in addition to Uncle Ryan and Aunt Miranda, there had to be enough Fortune cousins and in-laws there to populate at least half of this dusty little town.”

“Surely your uncle realizes that anyone could have—”

“Ryan isn’t in the position to do much clear thinking right now. He’s still in the hospital, deathly ill. As I understand it, he’s not out of the woods yet.”

That particular bombshell lay between them as yet unexploded. If Ryan Fortune were to actually die, Jonas was certain to be charged with his murder. In a state renowned for putting men to death as an example to others, his odds were not good for anything lighter than a life sentence if a jury actually found him guilty by a preponderance of evidence, circumstantial or not.

Things were definitely more serious than Tara had suspected when she had packed up and headed to Texas. She had been under the impression that this was all some sort of gigantic mistake that could easily be cleared up with a little time, logic and detective work.

“But what reason could you possibly have for wanting to kill your uncle?” she demanded to know as if already playing out the courtroom scene in her head.

“Besides the possibility of inheriting millions?” Jonas supplied with a twisted self-deprecating grin. “According to Sheriff Grayhawk, revenge is always a viable incentive. He’s well aware that I’ve never held my real father in much esteem. He seems to think that animosity could carry over to his brother, my uncle Ryan. As much as I hate to admit it, any qualified psychiatrist could have a field day analyzing my motives.”

Tara’s head was swimming. She was glad she wasn’t drinking anything stronger than ginger ale. A person needed all her faculties to piece this hodgepodge together. She eyed Jonas’s drink suspiciously. “You don’t think anyone would tamper with our drinks, do you?”

“I’ve considered the possibility. Though I wouldn’t put it past anyone in Red Rock to try and do me in while I’m holed up here, I think we’re safe as long as we check to make sure the containers are properly sealed.”

The mere suggestion that Jonas might not get out of town alive sent a shiver up Tara’s spine.

“I’d certainly understand if you didn’t feel like sticking around,” Jonas said, reading the goose bumps on her arms.

“Just try to get rid of me,” she quipped with false brightness.

Nothing short of dynamite was going to blast her away from this man’s side in his time of need. If anything happened to Jonas, she didn’t know how she could continue getting up in the mornings. Whether he knew it or not, he was the center of her universe. Rather than dwelling on any pessimistic possibilities, Tara decided to approach this particular predicament as she did every other problem in her life—one methodical step at a time.

Setting her drink down, she signaled that break time was over. She was ready to get back to work.

“As soon as the computer arrives, we’ll get online and catch up on correspondence and paperwork. Then we’ll set about figuring out who the real criminal in your loving family is and decide how best to go about clearing your name.”

The tired smile Jonas gave her was tinged with bitterness. “Goodfellow may be a bastard’s name passed down illegitimately, but after all that’s happened, I have to admit that I prefer it to the one that’s brought me nothing but mis-Fortune since I set foot in Texas.”

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